


I'm Weak my Love

by Rosypie3



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Dancing, Dancing and Singing, Drinking, Fluff, Hair Washing, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, implied marriage, implied wedding, its literally just Geralt pining for Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosypie3/pseuds/Rosypie3
Summary: ....and I am wantingGeralt pining as he realizes how much brighter Jaskier makes his days.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 107





	I'm Weak my Love

Geralt was always amazed at how bright Jaskier was. Befitting of the one named buttercup. The bright yellow flower fitting the man's demeanor perfectly. 

Geralt was blind to the man’s personality when they first met. 

He was intent to ignore the bard as he skipped along beside Roach and him. Loudly proclaiming why Geralt should let him tag along as he regaled him with tales of grand adventures he's been on. Only to be dismissed with a grunt and a grimace. 

He was blind to him then, his own dampened self shying away from one so bright.

The realization of just how bright he was occurring during the performance of the first song Jaskier made about him. 

“Toss a coin to your Witcher!” His melodic voice drifted around the tavern as he flitted about, causing others to clap and stomp their feet in his wake. His face was adorned with a smile even as he sang, his chestnut hair was caught in the light, causing a halo to form around his head. 

His body swayed with the music, catching glimpses of lithe muscle in his arms and hands as he strummed his lute. The decadent silks that he always wore were shimmering with each movement. His face was glittering in the light from sweat as he poured his entire being into each and every song he performed. But his eyes. His eyes were the brightest thing about him. It was as if the sun shed two burning blue coals, alight with pure joy as he danced and sang; flickering with each note. 

The loud roar of the crowd's demand for an encore were dampened as every sense in Geralt's body was focused on Jaskier. The Witcher does not know how long he was seated at that tavern. Watching the bard breathe life into everyone and everything around him, twisting and turning as his body and voice weaved happy memories from nothing. He didn’t even know it was over until there was a soft thud in the seat next to him as the bard sat down, winded from his performance. 

His cheeks were dusted with a rosy pink as he fought to catch his breath. They were so close that Geralt could feel the heat wafting off him. “So how was it?” He asked, tilting his head forward as he waited for an answer. His warm breath tickled Geralt’s arm as he did so, leaving sparks in its wake. 

Geralt is a man of few words. He doesn’t know how to respond in normal situations let alone one like this. He didn’t even know where to begin to describe to the bard just how mesmerizing his performances were. He settles for the tried and true. Geralt hums inclining his head into a nod. 

Jaskier’s face lights up and those blue embers shine even brighter as he only has time to voice his excitement at Geralt’s apparent enjoyment before he is whisked away to the stage. Breathing life into the small tavern once more. 

%%%

The second time was after Jaskier’s new-found success. 

Geralt was sitting in the wooden basin, watching as steam wafted up into the air before it dissipated. Content with the silence that enveloped him.

Of course, that didn’t last long. Jaskier came bustling into the small space, his arms full of glass bottles that from the smell of them, were various soaps and perfumes. 

Geralt sighed, resting his face in his hand as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh don’t be like that.” Jaskier chastises, lightly hitting his arm. He grunted in response to the light slap, which in all honesty didn’t even hurt. 

Jaskier dragged a stool over and settled down behind Geralt. Soft hands gently guide his head back until it’s in the other's lap. His thighs are soft and warm against his cold wet hair. Yellow eyes meet blue, so entranced by them that he’s only able to catch the tail end of the conversation. “-can’t have you wandering around looking like a mangy dog.” 

The soft hands return to his hair as nimble fingers expertly untangle the knots there. Ever so gently they cart through his silvery-white hair, scratching at his scalp. Wherever Jaskier scratched leaving a pleasant tingle in its wake. As much as he enjoys looking at his face, Geralt closes his eyes as comfort washes over him. 

Suddenly, something cold touches his scalp as Jaskier applies one of the soaps, it had a mild smell one he could tolerate. Enjoy even. Jaskier nudges the back of his head, signaling him to lift it off of his lap. Geralt, eyes still closed, sits up in the basin, the hot water splashing as he moves before it settles. “There we go. We really ought to do this more often, maybe people will actually like you for a change.” Jaskier teases as his hands return to his hair. 

Scrubbing with a little more pressure Geralt can’t help to let out a pleased hum. The scrubbing stops immediately, Geralt opens his eyes as the room is filled with nothing but silence. The cold bubbles in his hair slowly slide down his back until they disappear into the water. The silence is broken by Jaskier laughing. A sweet melodic sound, instantly filling the room with a different type of warmth than the one that comes from the bath. 

Geralt doesn’t have to see Jaskier to know exactly what he looks like. His face practically glowing as his joy envelopes him, his closed eyes scrunched up as he throws his head back, his hair whipping about with his movements as he tries to stop laughing enough to catch his breath. 

When he finally calms down enough his hands return to Geralt’s hair and the Witcher closes his eyes once more, a soft smile gracing his lips as he leans into his touch. 

Jaskier pretends not to notice.

Then Jaskier leans forward and scoops up some of the water, pouring it over his head. The warm water cascades down Geralt's broad shoulders taking the soapy foam with it. 

Jaskier pats Geralt on the shoulder, the warmth like a shock to his system as it seeps into his skin. Then the moment is gone as quick as it came. The clink of bottles resumes as Jaskier leaves the room, humming as he goes. 

As soon as he leaves Geralt no longer finds enjoyment in being alone. He suddenly feels very cold, even the steaming bathwater doesn’t ease the frigid chill. Geralt gets out soon after. 

%%%

The third time is in the mundane-ness of traveling.

After days of traveling on the road and having to endure Jaskier complaining about not having a proper bed, they finally reach an inn. When they try to get rooms they are told that there is only one room available. 

“I’ll sleep outside,” replies Geralt.

This riles up Jaskier quite a bit as he puffs up like an agitated cat. “You will do no such thing! We both haven’t slept in a proper bed in days.” 

Jaskier glares at Geralt, daring him to protest once more. Geralt lost the battle before it even began, he could never truly deny those blue eyes. With a grunt, he trudged up to where their shared room was. Geralt had enough time to take off his armor and deposit his weapons before Jaskier came in. 

He settled on the bed, pointedly keeping his gaze away from the bard as he changed. A weight made the bed dip as Jaskier settled in beside him, nestling under the blanket. His legs were just barely touching Geralt's. The rustling of fabric was heard as the room was encased in darkness as Jaskier blew out the candle with a soft “Goodnight”. The sound of the man's steady heartbeat lulling the Witcher to sleep. 

He was pulled from the dreads of sleep with soft sunlight streaming in from the poorly concealed window. He dragged his eyes open only to be met with the sight of a still asleep Jaskier. His features softened by the morning light, causing a yellow glow to form. He could feel his body heat in the small space as it seemed to roll off him in waves, enveloping the Witcher in a sense of comfort. 

The spell is broken when those long lashes flutter as Jaskier slowly opens his eyes. Geralt not willing to be caught feigns sleep. He hears the other man get up and get ready before he can sense him standing over him. Gentle hands grasp his shoulder as he is shaken ‘awake’. “You can’t sleep the day away, we have places to be.” Geralt watches as Jaskier leaves the room, telling him he’ll be waiting downstairs for him.

%%%

The fourth time is in every little thing Jaskier does.

Geralt looks at Jaskier and thinks that he must be some new creature that has yet to be discovered. One so good could never have been born of man. Men are but dirty self-serving creatures, some are worse than the monsters Geralt kills and yet. Here is one before him, that outshines even the most devout saint. But, Jaskier is no saint. He has his faults, he’s pompous, selfish, and vain. He’s as human as one could be and yet, Geralt still finds himself in awe of the man.

Because despite everything, Jaskier chose him to share his mortal life with.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please comment your thoughts :-)


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